


With Our Bloody End and Our Bloody Beginning, The Gods Bow to My Corpse

by beenc0



Series: Our Ashes and Our Blood - Fundywastaken [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Assassination Attempt(s), Curse Breaking, Curses, Dead Soulmates, Death, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Family Secrets, Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Hybrids, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beenc0/pseuds/beenc0
Summary: The gods are not kind, even to the purest of souls. A prince sets out to find a way to break the curse that has been set on him by the gods, but he soon finds himself falling for a man who would rather put a sword to his neck instead. Through desperation and sorrow, they find each other reaching for the same spark of hope, learning to trust each other through it all, may it be in life or death.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot/Sally the Salmon
Series: Our Ashes and Our Blood - Fundywastaken [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015014
Comments: 27
Kudos: 179





	1. Bloody Beginning

Sneaking out of the castle was easy enough, but running from an assassin wasn’t what he was planning that evening. Once over the walls, Fundy was surprised to see someone trying to climb right next to him. The two of them sort of just sat there, eyes locked as they took each other in. With a few glances to the man's face, Fundy’s eyes blew wide and he ran. He kicked up dirt as he slid and darted the opposite direction. A mask had hidden the man's face, but the recognizable smiley face made Fundy fear for his life. As a prince, Fundy had learned to avoid anyone who made his fur stick on end. That included a deadly assassin that was most likely scaling the walls to shoot him dead. 

And so, now Fundy was running for his life and regretting every choice he has ever made in his entire life. Luckily, Fundy was quite familiar with the woods, but he wasn’t lucky enough to keep in front of the assassin. Luck was not on his side for long, it had just rained and the dirt had turned into pits of mud. Fundy scrambled to pull his boot from the pit and to force himself up. 

A hand grabbed him, his wrist burst with colorful pain as he was pulled towards the taller figure. Fundy let out a screech, kicking and biting as the hands that grabbed his wrists dragged him away into the forest. Mud covered his back and tail, the smell embedded itself into Fundy’s clothes. This was not how Fundy wanted to send his evening. 

“Let go of me!” He hissed.

“Shush!” The assassin growled as he threw Fundy against a tree, pulling out rope to bind his hands together.

Fundy took the opportunity to jump up, avoiding the sword that lashed out at him. Pulling his arm back, Fundy swung at the taller man’s face. With a loud crack, the mask broke into pieces. Fundy could see the man’s eyes and a bit of the curve of his nose. Blood came from where the pieces of mask dug into the man’s skin. He had freckles that danced across his cheek and bridge of his nose, bright green eyes that looked like oak leaves. The assassin howled in surprise and pain, dropping his sword as he took steps backwards. Fundy made a break away, sprinting from the scene. 

Fundy tried contemplating his options, he knew that he could not stay in the lead for too long. Maybe climb the walls? No, he will most likely get shot at from below. Call for help? No, with his luck the person who would hear him would want him dead. Escape through the front village and then through the gate? Maybe, just maybe. That option was more likely to help him than the others and so Fundy ran towards the village. The cross roads finally were in his sight, they sat outside the forest. Instead of the cold winds of the forest, Fundy was greeted with the bright sun of the cross roads. A sense of relief washed over him as his feet tore through the ground to reach the sun. 

But he was too slow.

Fundy howled in pain as a hand grabbed his tail, dragging him away from the sun, away from the capital. Terror replaced the steady relief, shaking him to the core. Fundy thrashed, his heart rate spiking as the cold hands took his own as he was dragged across the mud once again. The once dry mud became thick once again across his back, his boots stained with grass, his cloak abandoned when he had not noticed, jacket torn from being dragged across roots, and ears ringing as the assassin planned his death. 

“Oh may the gods have mercy on my soul,” Fundy whispered to himself as he was finally dragged upwards to have eye contact with the assassin.

“You really have been a tough catch,” The man glared at Fundy, holding his shirt tightly, “It pisses me off.”

“And that pleases me,” Fundy rasped out, nerves on high alert.

“You’re lucky you aren’t dead,” The assassin watched as Fundy twitched in his grasp, unable to break free. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet.”

“I don’t have luck,” Fundy sniffed, “Lost that the moment I saw on that wall.”

“You sure have an attitude, Princey,” The man huffed as he pushed Fundy flat on his back.

“Princey?” Fundy dug the heels of his palms into the mud.

“I have got the right fox, don’t I?” Fundy watched the man fiddle with the rope, locking his hands and ankles together.

“I wish you didn’t,” Fundy groaned at the searing pain of the burning rope against his skin. 

“Well,” The assassin smiled, even with the mask covering his mouth, the tone in his voice was quite obvious, “Guess I’m lucky.”

The fur on Fundy’s tail bristled in anger as he watched the assassin leave him on the ground tied up.

“Do you know who I am?” The man asked.

“Of course,” Fundy hissed, voice low, “Who wouldn’t be able to recognize that mask of yours?”

“The mask that you broke!” The man’s mask still hid most of his face, but his left eye and the bridge of his nose was visible. Blood was stained across the white porcelain. 

Fundy growled and thrashed around, he had run out of luck and now was tied up for dead, “God, just kill me now!”

“He doesn’t want you dead,” The assassin brought up chat, it hovered above his hands as he typed across the drive. 

“Who?” Fundy’s mouth went agape as his ears flicked back, twitching as panic soared through his veins.

“He’s here,” The assassin paid no mind to Fundy’s desperate cry. 

Fundy could not stand the tension in the air (he couldn’t even stand)! The shadows of the trees were all he could see as he was stuck on his back, unable to roll over as the man pressed his boot to Fundy’s side, keeping him pressed to the ground. All regalness that Fundy has been taught to maintain even through the roughest of times were thrown out the window. The hand guide didn’t even mention being kidnapped and thrown into the mud!

“He’s not what I imagined,” A voice said, and the assassin’s head rotated quickly to look where the voice came from. 

“He’d been…” The assassin debated with his words, “Dragged through the mud many times in this past hour.”

“Get off-!” Fundy was shut up with a kick to his side, he coughed harshly as the air rushed from his lungs.

“I’d be careful with him,” The new man murmured, “Wilbur would be even angrier with me if I kidnapped and hurt his son.” 

“I do not think you’d have to worry about that,” The assassin rubbed the heel of his boot against the bruise that was forming on Fundy’s side. “Wilbur would pay anything no matter what.”

Fundy was being used for tearing money out of Wilbur’s pockets, he’s being kidnapped and held for ransom. His tail angrily hit the earth with a thud, his ears stuck up as he felt rage bubble in his throat.

“Aww, is little princey getting mad?” The assassin cooed as he pressed his heel harder into Fundy’s skin. 

“I will bite your foot off!” Fundy bared his teeth, his sharp canines flashing as he snarled at the man pressing into him. 

“I’ll take your word for it,” The assassin laughed.

“How much do you think Wilbur will pay?” The new man asked as he approached Fundy and the assassin.

“Anything, really,” The assassin watched the other man, “Ask and you will receive.”

“What do you want from this?” The man asked, cautiously staring at the assassin.

“Half of what you’re asking for,” The assassin’s eye narrowed, “Otherwise if you don’t pay up, I’m taking him with me no matter what.”

Fundy thrashed at those words, kicking at the ground, trying to grip the earth and push himself up.

“Straight up kidnapping him?” The new man laughed hysterically, “Why would you keep him?”

“Should I kill him then?” The assassin quirked his head to the side.

“If you are,” The man’s voice was tinted with a sly smile, it was almost audible, “Do it inf ront of Wilbur. I’d love to see him scream.”

“Too bad, we’d be wasting such a pretty face,” Fundy growled at the assassin’s words. “Won't miss the attitude though.”

The mood was quickly turned upside down as fire erupted around them, the sudden flash caught both the assassin and man off guard. Fundy was finally able to break free from the rope, he tore through the rope on his wrists with his claws and the rope across his ankle quickly. Staggering, Fundy was able to run past the two men. With a quick look back, he caught sight of ram horns and the white mask of his enemies. Mud clung to his clothing and skin as the fire burst and grew around him. He looked around, trying to find any glimpse of hope. Holding his side, Fundy hid behind a bush as he listened to the frantic cursing of the two men. 

Pink flashed in front of him, Fundy snapped his gaze up to meet a familiar boar skull mask, long pink hair, and red cloak. And the hope Fundy was looking for lit into a bigger flame than the ones around him.

“Techno!” His voice was breathy, tired and rough. 

“Thank gods,” Technoblade carefully placed a hand on Fundy’s back, lifting him up to hang across his shoulders and back, “You’re alive.”

With a crossbow in hand, Technoblade ran off, away from the men and the scolding fire. Within seconds, Fundy noticed the mask of the assassin, and with a tap on the shoulder, Technoblade fired in the direction of where Fundy pointed. The assassin stalked closer, letting Technoblade slide Fundy limply off his shoulders as the tension in the air rose to ask for a duel. Fundy groaned tiredly as he was set against the ground, staring at his uncle and the assassin. With a grunt, Technoblade pulled out a Sword from his belt. And the world was once again set on fire as arrows and swords clashed. 

With a quick dodge under the arm, the assassin bolted across the muddy clearing towards Fundy (who could not stand, laying on the ground limp as a dead body). It was rude, breaking the decency of a deul (as decent as a deul can get). The assassin didn’t get very far as an arrow cut through his shoulder, sending him tumbling to the ground as blood pooled from the wound and into the muddy pits of the earth. He cursed the sky.

Hurriedly, Technoblade grabbed Fundy, throwing him over his shoulders and ran. Letting the assassin bleed as he kept the prince on his back. Everything went black.

* * *

In a panicked rush, Fundy nearly leapt out of bed. His head thrashed back and forth, taking in his surroundings. He was no longer tied up with ropes, no longer in pain as a heel dug into his skin, no longer hung across Technoblade’s shoulders, no longer covered in mud. Fundy was now just… sitting in his bed. Sitting in his room. He could not recall what had happened after he watched the assassin bleed out. But, now he did not need to worry about being slammed into the mud again now that he was back home, back in his room, back in the castle. His mouth was dry, it was almost as if he had eaten sand. 

Fundy sat up, stilling as a sharp pain flashed through his ribs. He groaned, closing his eyes as the pain fluttered lightly, soon calming down to a bare throb. The pads of his hands danced over the sheets, the fur upon his fingers and the back of his hand were combs down like the fur upon his tail. With a quick flick of the ear, he huffed. Fundy could barely get up, not wanting to disturb the angry pain in his ribs/sides. As Fundy rested his head against the large pillows that supported his back, the heavy wooden doors of his room were flung open. Came in a hurriedly talking Wilbur whose hands moved around as he empathized his words. And with a quick glance to Fundy’s bed, Wilbur’s eyes widened and with a flick of his hand, the people who trailed after him scattered down the hallways.

“Fundy!” Wilbur wrapped his arms around his son, “Oh thank god you’re up!” 

“Wil…” Fundy groaned as Wilbur squeezed him a bit too tight. 

“Oh! Sorry!” Wilbur put up his hands before placing them down upon Fundy’s shoulders, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Fundy groaned as he let Wilbur rest his hands on his shoulders, glaring at the fingers fidgeting upon the white fabric of his wool shirt.

“Haha, thought you might feel as such,” Wilbur laughed a little before he sat down on Fundy’s bed. The covers were brought up to the bottom of the half-fox’s torso, covering his legs. Fundy twisted out of Wilbur’s grasp. “What happened?”

“Excuse me?” Fundy did not look Wilbur in the eyes.

“What happened, Fundy. All the way out in the middle of the forest with an assassin at your throat?” Wilbur sighed as he pulled his hands away from his son's shoulders. 

“Kidnapped, isn’t that obvious enough?” Fundy felt his bed dip as Wilbur leaned most of his body weight on one arm, towards Fundy.

“Oh! More than that!” Wilbur breathed a sigh as he rolled his eyes. “You’re injured! Found nearly dead in the mud! Techno had to drag you half dead back to the castle!” 

“What? Want me to tell you who fucking kidnapped me?” Fundy huffed, then froze. Then realized that was exactly what Wilbur was asking. 

“YES!” Wilbur threw his arms in exasperation, rolling his eyes at his son.

“I can’t tell you exactly who because i’m not completely sure who they were,” Fundy mumbled, fiddling with his thumbs, “A man with ram horns and an assassin with a white mask.”

“Holy shit,” Wilbur’s eyes widened, recognizing the descriptions, “Fuck.”

“What?” Fundy finally looked at his father, hands working faster between each finger as he twitched around under the sheets. 

“And to think I’d never hear from them again!” Wilbur stood, pushing from Fundy’s bed and to the floor, “Damn!”

As Wilbur paced, the rug being kicked up from under his feet, a figure appeared in the open doorway. A man with choppy yellow-blond hair, blue eyes and a crown stepped into the room. Philza.

“Techno told me everything,” Phil frowned, “How are you feeling, Fundy?”

“Sick, tired, like death,” Fundy complained to his grandfather, the king. 

“I assumed so,” Phil smiled gently, “Come Wilbur, leave your son to rest.”

“I must stay with him!” Wilbur stopped pacing, “What if the assassin breaks in again?”

“Breaks in?” Fundy cut in, scowling, “I didn’t hear about anyone breaking in.”

Philza and Wilbur paused, staring at the prince as he questioned them.

“What?” Wilbur laughed meekly, “You mean that… no one broke in to kidnap you?”

“There was no sign of break in…” Phil pressed his finger to his lips as he thought, voice lowered. 

“Uhh…” Fundy realized he just got himself in trouble.

“DID YOU SNEAK OUT??” Wilbur yelled, cheeks and ears going red.

“Oh my god,” Phil pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh.

“You didn’t realize?” Another person had stepped into Fundy’s room, Technoblade, “I thought that would’ve been obvious.”

“I can’t believe you, Fundy!” Wilbur’s hands pulled at his brown hair, boots clicking against the tile separate from the rug, “This is why I tell you to never leave the castle without a guard or permission!”

“Even if I did ask, you would’ve said no!” Fundy shot back at his father.

“I don’t see why you’re so mad,” Techno chuckled as he leaned against the bed frame, “We used to do it all the time with Tommy, always got in a mess didn’t we? I don’t see how that's any different from now.”

“Techno! You saw who took him, didn’t you?” Wilbur groaned as he raised his voice. 

“I saw,” Techno rolled his eyes, his skull mask gone now that Fundy was paying attention to his uncle, “Schlatt and Dream.”

“This is serious,” Phil put in, “They’re enemies to the kingdom, and now that we know that they’re coming after one of the princes, who knows who they’ll come for next.”

“And that means no parties, right?” Techno played with the dirt underneath his fingernails, only raising his gaze when to meet Wilbur’s.

“Yes,” Phil nodded, “Absolutely.” 

“It’s almost Tommy’s Birthday,” Wilbur frowned, “We always have parties on birthdays.”

“If we have one, we’ll be putting Tommy at risk,” Phil sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a warm hand to Wilbur’s shoulder.

“A problem is a problem,” Techno finally pushed off Fundy’d bed frame, starting for the door, “Even if we miss them.”

Fundy had not spoken a word during the whole converse, only staring as he watched his family frown as Techno walked out of Fundy’s room and out into the hallway. 

“What the fuck,” Fundy took a slight pause between each word, empathizing his confusion. 

“You don’t have to worry about,” Phil sighed, removing his hand from Wilbur’s shoulder, starting to follow Techno out into the hallway. “Rest well.”

Wilbur hurried over to his son to press a soft kiss to his forehead, “You’re burning up, listen to Philza and go to bed. I’ll see you in a bit if you’re up for dinner. Okay?”

Fundy sighed, “Okay.”

“Love you Fundy,” Wilbur smiled at his son as he crossed the room.

“May I ask-?”

“Bed time!” Wilbur snickered as he dodged the question, blowing a kiss to his son as he closed Fundy’s large wooden doors. 

Fundy was now alone. It had been a while since Fundy had last seen them all (them all as in Wilbur, Philza, and Technoblade) had a semi-civil conversation together. But questions sprung into Fundy’s head as he layed back down, bringing his sheets and covers up to his chest as his head lowered. He did not know much about his family's past, Wilbur always dodged the question when Fundy asked as a child and Fundy grew to understand that he should not ask because he will never get an answer. As a child he remembers asking Tommy (The uncle Tommy thing had always been weird, due to Fundy’s… condition, he grew and aged faster. Much to Tommy’s distaste) to tell him about everything he knew. Tommy would not say anything, even if he was a loud mouth. 

Fundy hoped he’d get better soon.

* * *

Months had passed but Fundy could not stop thinking about that incident. The outrageous parties that the kingdom was known for holding were back on once Philza had deemed it safe for all to attend. The first one would be that night and Fundy only sat in his room as the people of the castle spent time gathering to prepare for the party. The pain had gone away, though a light sting would prick his ribs when he moved for too long and Fundy had grown used to the inability to leave the castle due to Wilbur’s own growing caution. A rap on the door shook Fundy from his thoughts:

“Come in!” He called.

His door opened to a young girl just a bit older than him, Fundy knew her as Niki.

“Fundy! How are you?” She addressed him with his first name, ignoring politeness to stand next to the fox prince. 

“I’m well,” Fundy picked at his words, unable to describe the situation he was in, “Just a bit…”

“Nervous?” Niki giggled as she watched Fundy play with the pads of his fingers, “It’ll be fine.”

“I’m not nervous,” Fundy insisted, deaf to the new person in the room.

“I sure am,” Ranboo stood next to Fundy, his back stiff as he tightened the strings of his pants. 

“You’re always nervous!” Niki laughed as she pressed a hand to her brother's shoulder. 

Fundy had known Niki and Ranboo for as long as he could remember. They had practically grown up together, though Fundy spent most of his time dragging Ranboo around the palace making a mess of it. 

“How are you not sweating your brains out?” Ranboo asked the prince as Fundy tied the cape Wilbur gave him around his shoulders. 

“You sweat?” Fundy questioned as he looked at Ranboo, who was an enderman hybrid that many did not take the leisure to look at. 

“Yes!” Ranboo insisted, voice growing slightly louder as he swallowed thickly. Niki only sighed as she straightened her maid dress. The two worked as maid and butler for the castle, a deal that Fundy had made with Philza many years ago to keep the two close. 

“We’re going to head down, I’m on platter duty,” Niki pressed a kiss to Fundy’s cheek, rubbing his back as a goodbye.

“Me as well,” Ranboo let out a short breath, “Woo… See you later Fundy!”

“Bye you two,” Fundy watched as the siblings hurried out of his room, off the servant quarters to prepare themselves. 

Fundy was required to wear his formal prince uniform, in which it was a long yellow cape embroidered with the family crest across the back. He was covered in silks and fur, both his own and his clothes. He fiddled with the fur between his fingers, staring at himself in the mirror as he listened to the hurried footsteps that went back and forth in front of his door. Something he was very self conscious about was his fur, it trailed from his tail to his legs and from his hands to his elbows. His ears poked out of his hair, even with how hard he tried to tame his ears by covering them with his hair, it never worked. Over the years his hair started to go grey, strips from the middle started first and then around the tips. He didn’t enjoy the foxy traits that he was given.

Playing with the gold collar of his shirt, Fundy sighed. He didn’t quite understand why out of all parties, why did he have to dress up for this one? The only times he ever did dress up like this was for a political audience or family birthdays (but even those birthdays aren't important enough for Fundy to dress in gold). Directing his gaze towards the opening door, he eyed his father who stepped in.

“Wil,” Fundy breathed as Wilbur stepped to stand next to his son. 

“Fundy,” Wilbur played around with Fundy’s clothes, smoothing them out and straightening them. 

“Jeez,” Fundy let out an irritated sigh, “I look fine Wilbur.”

Wilbur scowled, “Why do you insist to call me that? I’m your father, Fundy.”

Fundy did not answer, only rubbing his padded fingers against the bags of his eyes. His tail flicked as he shivered, his nerves were starting to get to him. 

“Can I ask you something?” Fundy picked up his gaze to look at his father who stood stiff, hands behind his back.

“Of course,” Wilbur answers slowly. 

“Why was I born this way?” Fundy frowned, his voice shaky.

“I haven’t told you?” Wilbur’s eyes went wide as he watched his son fidget with his fingers.

“You haven’t.”

“It’s…” Wilbur paused, rolling his hand out to empathize his thinking process, “A very long story. I don’t think I have ti-”

“Then shorten it.”

“I angered the gods. It was an accident, I swear, but it was enough for them not to be pleased,” Fundy’s back straightened as he listened to his father recall, “Your mother, Sally, was all that mattered in my life back then. The gods took advantage of that. I had just found out she was pregnant with you, the gods knew that. They cursed her and you, Sally to be dead by the time you breathed your first breath. And you, Fundy, cursed to be…” Wilbur trailed off, unable to finish his sentence as he choked up.

“I was cursed to look like this?” Fundy’s voice was barely a whisper.

“It was all my fault,” Wilbur wrapped his arms around Fundy, holding him close. 

“I could’ve been… human?” Fundy murmured. 

“No one is born an.. An animal, Fundy,” Wilbur sighed, “You have to be cursed.”

“That man,” Fundy looked up, pulling slightly away from Wilbur to look in his eyes, “With the ram horns, is he like me?”

Wilbur’s lower lips wobbled, his frown deepening as he looked at his son. He answered with a simple, “Yes.”

They did not speak for a minute, Fundy just rested in Wilbur’s embrace. There was so much that Fundy didn’t know and might never know. He wanted to know, even Phil said the best part of life is to learn, is to know as much as you can. Fundy wanted to know about his family, about Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Tommy, Tubbo, and even his dead mother, Sally. But he doubts that he ever will.

“Alright! No time to cry!” Wilbur let out a loud breath, pumping himself up by shaking his hands as he pulled away from Fundy.

“You were the one crying, Wil,” Fundy rolled his eyes.

“Quiet!” Wilbur snorted as he headed towards the door again, “I’ll see you soon? Do not be late.”

“Yeah,” Fundy did not watch Wilbur leave, “Wil?”

“Yes?” Wilbur had his hand on the door handle, pushing the door open.

“Can I break the curse?” Fundy asked, “Is it possible?”

“Maybe with a true love's kiss,” Wilbur tried joking, “I’m kidding. I really have no clue, Fundy, I wish I did.”

A pause.

“I love you, my little champion.”

“I love you too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOO okay okay, i'm not completely sure how long this will be but uh,,, have it anyways. And expect this story to be as bloody as the last


	2. Chapter 2

_Nothing else in the world mattered as Wilbur Soot pressed his fingers into the hair of his most beloved. The world melted into only Sally and her bright brown eyes, her charming smile and delicate hands, her soft hair and slim body. Nothing mattered other than Sally, Sally and her soft laughter. His world was Sally and only Sally. It will forever be only Sally and her charming smile. Only Sally and him by the banks._

_Never had love been this raw and beautiful, nothing else compares to the love shared between the prince and the goddess that was Sally. Nothing mattered as Sally watched Wilbur and listened to his songs of love. Wilbur was her world and nothing mattered more than him and his voice. All that Sally wanted to hear was his voice and to feel his hands in her hair as the sun rose and set. She was not willing to let that go._

_Sally fell in love with the kisses and touches, the way Wilbur put his all into their romance and dance. Their dance of love that the gods could not even stop. It was pure, no sin ever committed as they danced along the banks with their hands intertwined. No evil could separate them, life held them with open hands, never wanting to let them go._

_The gods grew restless, jealous, and angry as Sally kissed Wilbur with bliss. They grew tired and bored as they grew into nothing more than a man and woman who lied by the banks of a dying river. The king grew worried as his son disappeared for hours on end as he went to meet Sally. Sally, Sally, Sally, was all that was heard from the princes mouth as he returned back to his brothers and father. They grew upset, unable to understand the unbreakable bond between Wilbur and the goddess that was Sally._

_With a shake of a hand, the gods and the king agreed to end it. Wilbur and Sally unable to dance any longer as the gods pressed in. Unable to dance as the king frowned upon the child growing in Sally as the days passed._

_Their romance was thrown aside as death welcomed Sally, welcomed her with open arms, laughing in life’s face. The gods cursed her, her and her child. The child born to be a monster. Wilbur was thrown into a craze, unable to let Sally go as she closed her eyes a final time._

_Their love was never meant to be._

_But their son was born with a smile on his face. Wilbur wept as he held his dying lover and son as the sun set._

_Never had he paid attention to the fur that grew upon his son’s skin, the fangs that grew at the canines, ears that poked over his hair, the tail at his rear, and fox legs. The son who was oh so perfect to Wilbur cursed to be a monster, a monster wanting to be set free. Wilbur sang to his son, unable to recognize the transforming pain growing in his son as he grew. Wilbur was cursed by the gods, forever to be blinded by his love. His love for the goddess that was Sally and the monster that is his son, Fundy._

_Wilbur rested his hands upon his son's hair, directly avoiding the ears that had been dug into his son's scalp. He hummed as his fingers rested in Fundy’s hair, just like they had with Sally. So much of Sally was in Fundy, may it be hair or the curse. His world quickly turned into Fundy and only Fundy, Sally was no more as his darling son smiled and laughed. Nothing was more important than the fox prince that prayed on the innocent servants. Nothing was more important than the fox prince that pressed close to Wilbur’s side as the sun set and the day ended. Nothing was more important than the fox prince who yelled at Wilbur, angry and upset as his world fell apart. Nothing was more important than getting his son back._

_The world was nothing compared to his cursed son. Philza called him blind, Technoblade called him a fool. Tommy only frowned, the words he had to say already embedded deep into Wilbur’s head as he turned away. The world fell apart the day Technoblade came back with Fundy limp in his arms, blood running from his wrists and sides. The world fell apart months later when Fundy finally asked, asked “Why was I born this way?” only for Wilbur to break down. The world fell apart as he watched Fundy think about the horns of a man who had stabbed Wilbur in the back many years ago. The world fell apart that same day when the dance, the party was thrown into ruin. The world ended when——_

_Nothing could save his son. He could not save his son._

_Oh Sally, Oh Wilbur’s dear dead Sally frowned as she died._

_The gods do not smile nor do they frown, they look upon the ruins of a family that would’ve been so perfect. Looked upon a son who fell for a man whose only foreseeable future was filled with blood. They looked upon a father who wept for his losses, a father cursed to be blind._

_Wilbur felt tears run down his cheeks and he pressed a final kiss to his son's forehead, ignoring the blood that had pooled around him, pressed a kiss to the wounds that cursed his son. “Maybe with a true love's kiss,” He had said, wishing that his blinded love would revive his dead son._

_His dear dead Sally, his wonderful dead Fundy. Sally and Fundy was his world. But the world had fallen apart, he no longer held his head high——_

* * *

A solid hand pressed against his shoulder, Wilbur was knocked out of his daze as Technoblade came into focus. The other stood tall as he frowned, never taking his hand away from his older brother's shaky shoulders. The familiar warm hands of the soldier shook Wilbur awake, dragging him from the haunting daze that had been set in just moments before. Wilbur looked to his hands, instead of his son’s blood- his son’s hair that was gold rings that Technoblade had gifted Wilbur just months before. 

“Wilbur?” Techno asked, concern showing in his voice. As Wilbur took a look at his brother, he noticed the familiar features he had grown to love as the two of them got older. May it be the long hair that he refused to cut, the scars littering his skin from days of fighting, the boar skull with a broken tusk, and his out of place red cape. Instead of the family yellow, Technoblade was dressed in blood red, though they had gotten used to the coloring and now associated it with him. 

“Techno,” Wilbur dipped his head in greeting.

“Thinking?” The other man asked.

“Yes,” Wilbur licked his bottom lip, wetting it as his nerves raised in tension as the music in the hall grew louder, “Maybe too much.”

“Everything will be fine,” Technoblade assured Wilbur, nodding as they both gazed upon the guests that filled the hall. “If Phil says it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.”

“You trust too easily, Techno,” Wilbur shook his head.

“You love it too easily,” Technoblade immediately stopped, going quiet as Wilbur scowled at him. “That was too far.”

“It was,” Wilbur sighed, “But it wasn’t just you. Forget it, okay?”

“Okay,” Technoblade folded his hands together, letting them firmly grasp each other as he silently cursed himself. 

Women and men danced to a stop as the music slowed to a stop. Chattering became apparent as each person moved to find someone familiar. From the corner of his eye, Wilbur spotted Tommy and Tubbo around the white tablecloths where the food was situated. Wilbur tapped Techno’s shoulder, chuckling as he pointed towards the boys. Techno scoffed. Tommy had reached over and grabbed a platter of scones, shoving them into a bag as he ducked under the table. Tubbo scurried after him, most likely following to eat the rest of the scones that Tommy had snatched. 

“Should we stop them?” Technoblade asked, slightly smiling.

“Let them have their fun,” Wilbur laughed as the white tablecloth fluttered as the two boys' breaths and movements moved it.

“What are they doing!” Both Techno and Wilbur turned to look at Phil, the king had appeared besides them as they watched Tubbo and Tommy.

“They are,” Wilbur wheezed a laugh, “Indulging.”

“What??” Phil laughed as the boys appeared once again, running towards the three men.

“PHIL!” Tommy called, “STOP TUBBO!”

“WHAT?” Tubbo gasped as they reared to a stop, “THAT WAS ALL YOU!”

Technoblade laughed as he eyed the crumbs on the corner of their lips, the crumbs of the scones Tommy had stolen off the table. 

“Oh both of you…” Phil laughed, rolling his eyes. “Stand up straight, this time we have no time to waste.’

“No time to waste?” Tommy fiddled with the buttons of his uniform, tugging at the tight collar, “What do we have to wear these? These parties are never this formal.”

Phil ignored Tommy’s pestering, turning to Wilbur, “Where’s Fundy?”

“I spoke to him in his room,” Wilbur’s smile dropped, shoulders going stiff, “I’d give him some time.”

“I understand,” Phil nodded, “Alright, each of you next to me.”

With memorized movement, each of the boys moved into their places, sitting on the thrones they each had grown to hate (May it be the uncomfortableness or the fact they did not want to feel above the rest). 

“Sit up straight,” Tubbo elbowed Tommy, who was rebelliously slouching in his own seat.

Tommy groaned as he waved off Tubbo, straightening as a blur of color flashed by him. Fundy had taken his seat next to Wilbur. Wilbur smiled, softly but carefully:

“How are you?” He whispered.

“Fine,” Fundy responded sharply, eyes glazed over. Wilbur frowned, sighing as he looked away from his upset son. _I should’ve never told him._

Though he was quickly distracted by the eerie silence that was washed over the hall. Wilbur could almost hear Fundy’s ears twitch to face towards the large wooden doors- as if he had heard something. Wilbur straightened, his back flat, and the others followed suit. Each trained from birth to sit still and stare. Philza had folded his hands in his lap, Technoblade’s shoulders raised, Tubbo gulped, Tommy glared, and Fundy frowned with his tail twitching. Wilbur stared at the door as it opened, almost blinding him in the process. As if out of a book, a play, a man appeared from the glowing white behind him, as if he was an angel. His red cape lined with fur, crown situated high upon his head and decorated with white jewels. He wore a pair of glasses, Wilbur was unable to see the king's eyes. With a loud clap, Philza had stood, smiling.

“Eret!” Philza opened his arms as a greeting, “It’s great to see that you made it safely.”

“Philza,” Eret laughed as let Phil clap him on the back, “Thank you for having me.”

The two kings shook hands, both standing tall before the audience of guests. Wilbur watched Eret carefully, watching as he took a glance at the princes who sat in their thrones. Philza nodded to the other king, giving him a nod of affirmation. And with that, Wilbur watched as King Eret turned towards his son, Fundy. Even Fundy seemed surprised as Eret laid out his hand, each prince stiffened, unable to move as they watched the fox prince stand. Wilbur nearly shot up, almost objecting as Fundy took the man's hand. Wilbur noticed Technoblade tense, they all had the same thoughts _Please let this not be the same as last time._ The memory of the brutal kidnapping of the prince washed over Wilbur as he gripped the armrest of his throne, glaring haughtily at the king as he took to the ginger down the steps. And the music started. 

Wilbur never relaxed as he watched Eret lead the waltz, watching as Fundy loosened up around the king. It was slow, and the guests soon joined them upon the dance floor. It was as if the world was suddenly enchanted as Wilbur watched the king and his son laugh at some silent joke, and Wilbur could barely hold in his fears as the clock inside of the hall ticked. Yellow drapes covered each window, each door, and the white, marble walls shone as the fire from the chandelier burned brighter as the sun set. A brilliant orange and pink graced the floors, reflecting onto the dancers. Servant’s glasses of wine and mead twinkled as the liquids bubbled. The world turned bright as Fundy laughed, talking to Eret as they were joined hand in hand. The swish of Fundy’s tail danced along as the speed of the music accelerated, as their dancing became quicker. 

Wilbur tensed as he watched his son open his mouth, hands resting upon Eret as he was led along. The blinding, charming smile of his last love seemed to be all that Wilbur could look at as he watched his son. He wore the same smile of Sally. Wilbur nearly leaned out of his seat, only bound to the throne due to his hands rooted to the armrest. His knuckles white as the air in his lungs seemed to vanish, the sudden thought, realization, shot Wilbur. They were dancing like Wilbur and Sally had, filled with adoration and laughter. Wilbur could not tell if the feeling in his chest was envy or worry as he stared at his son’s smile. Sally’s smile.

* * *

_The sun beat down on his face as hands took his own, one resting upon his shoulder as he moved to place his free hand upon her waist. With a quick movement, they were sent into a daze, a dance as they stared into each other's eyes._

_“Sally,” He had whispered, face close to her own._

_“Wilbur,” The goddess had smiled, sweet and kind as their feet danced across the sand of the bank, of the river._

_“I will never grow tired of this,” He spoke, Wilbur letting his shoulders relax as he led Sally in a circle._

_“How could you?” Sally watched Wilburs face, taking in every curve of his jaw, “It is impossible to grow tired of…”_

_“This,” Wilbur finished as Sally laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he dipped his down._

_“Yes,” She agreed, “This.”_

_Wilbur smiled along with her, watching as the sun lit up her eyes, as her smile became his world, and how she held him as if he was the most important thing in the world. He vowed that nothing would be able to take Sally away from him, that nothing could tear them apart. She was everything, He was everything, they were everything and no one could change that. The world would fall apart if such a thing happened, if their love could not be, then love for the rest of the world could not be. That is what Wilbur believed until the moment Sally’s last breath came out, until the moment where he heard the terrible cry of his son._

_The love of his soulmate would forever be in his son, Fundy. Nothing could change that, Wilbur smiled as he picked up the crying newborn, he would never let anything happen to the boy who was cursed before he was even born. The boy whose cure was nowhere to be found, only the blood of the claws and tears of his eyes was to be found as Wilbur sobbed into his skin, pleading for the gods forgiveness for whatever sin he had committed. It was never his fault, it was only the gods' jealousy that had brought Wilbur to his knees. Wilbur’s blinding love was all that held the world together. The world that was now Fundy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WILBUR AND SALLY, WILBUR AND SALLY OMG  
> yeah, have this, take it all and CRY
> 
> i realized that this story wasn't supposed to be a multi-chapter fic and that it was supposed to a oneshot. But here we are. I think i just knew that there was so much that could be added to the little idea and decided that it would much more fun if this became tons of chapters... haha


	3. Chapter 3

It was not the look of his father that made him stand, it was the smile of the King in front of him that welcomed Fundy. Fundy stood, trying not to shake as he made eye contact. He nearly was blown off his feet when the pure white eyes of the King stared at his own brown ones. It was almost demonic, but Fundy did not complain as he took the King’s hand. It was slow, as if time slowed down as the King led him down the steps and onto the floor of the ballroom. He tried not to shake as the King stood in the middle of the floor, placing a hand on Fundy’s waist. Without a glance towards his father, Fundy felt himself glide as the music started. 

Truly, he had not expected to be dancing with a King of all men. It was sudden, something that even his father was surprised at. No one knew what was going on… But of course Phil had not intervened, already knowing what was happening. He was the King of L’Manberg after all. Fundy sucked in a breath as he held onto one of the hands of the King, letting himself be guided by him as the music swayed around them. It was like something out of a book, and Fundy could not fully comprehend what was going on as his hands went numb. He focused on the feeling of the man’s gloves, they were pure white silk. Fundy nearly sighed as a sudden wave of nausea consumed him, coming from the immense amount of terror that was racking through his body as the King smiled.

“I never introduced myself,” The King said, but Fundy already knew his name.

“There is no need to, we all know who you are,” He breathed, steadying his hands, “Eret.”

The King smiled, “Wonderful. And you are Prince Fundy?”

“Indeed,” Fundy nodded, feeling himself turn as a note dropped.

“This is all so sudden,” Eret shook his head sadly, a smile gracing his face again.

“A dance?” Fundy inquired.

“Marriage,” Eret’s grip on Fundy tightened.

It took all of Fundy’s strength to not to stop dancing, to keep his composure, “What?” His voice was shaky.

“You do not know,” Eret’s mouth went agape, eyes invisible behind his dark glasses.

“I did not,” Fundy sighed heavily, “I was not told.”

“What a shame,” Eret’s touches now become feather like, not daring to hold Fundy as the music seemed to linger.

“A shame?”

“What a shame that you have to be told this way,” Eret pulled slightly back away from the prince, “It appears that your family was not let in on this fact.”

“It appears so.”

“You are not upset?” The king seemed shocked as he watched Fundy.

“I…” Fundy searched for the right words, “I do not think I am.”

“Why not?” Eret finally squeezed Fundy’s hand, pulling in closer so he could hear the whisper of the Prince’s voice, “If I were you, I’d be almost furious.”

“It’s just,” Fundy sighed, “That’s how things are, your majesty.”

“They don’t have to be,” Eret watched Fundy’s ear twitch.

“We know why this is happening, do we not?”

“Tell me.”

“Power, glory, land,” Fundy said, as if it was as simple as three words. “Money.”

Eret frowned, nodding, “Sadly, yes. That’s how things are.”

“That’s how things are,” Fundy repeated, trying to convince himself it was as such. He knew it was, marriage was rarely a thing for love. When you have daggered at your sides, people ready to bite at your throat if one thing goes wrong, ready to blame you for something that was not your fault, you understand that doing things to please the public will help your cause. Doing things to strengthen your alliance with another powerful kingdom will bring good. Fundy understood that to a terrible degree. 

“Enough about that now, I want to get to know you better,” Eret slowed as the music stopped, giving a slight bow to the prince as he bowed back.

“One more dance,” Fundy insisted, and Eret knew it was not a question.

And so, their conversation continued as they started to dance.

“Why learn about me?” Fundy asked.

“If I am to marry you, wouldn’t I want to know about you?” Eret tilted his head as Fundy took his hand.

“There is not much to me,” Fundy watched Eret scoff.

“I highly doubt that.”

Even despite the clear unease that hid beneath Fundy’s eyes, Eret persisted to talk to the cautious prince. They danced in a trance, laughing as if they were the only people in the world. Fundy could not decipher the feeling in his chest as he was spun around, cape flowing behind him as the world became nothing as he danced, and danced, and danced. The fear that had crawled underneath Fundy’s skin bled away as he grew comfortable with the flow of the dance. Smiling as Eret joked around, putting in small jokes as their dancing became calm, soft and easy. Fundy could feel the unblinking gaze of his father against the back of his head, though ignored it to instead laugh at his own joke. 

Maybe they had spent hours dancing, maybe they had spent mere minutes dancing but as far as the prince and the king could tell, the sun had set. No longer did the ballroom glow with the sunset, but with the white rays of the moon. The brilliant orange and pinks turned into black and blues as the moon rose. Fundy tried not to show his tiredness due to the fact that Eret kept dancing, maybe now it was just a side to side step but they still danced.

“You look tired,” Eret looked at the Prince and his heavy eyelids.

“If I said I wasn’t tired, I’d be lying,” Fundy sighed, letting Eret drop his hands.

“Well,” Eret smiled as he pulled Fundy off the dance floor and through the parting crowds. Fundy tried not to crumble under the eyes that stared at them, staring into his back almost as harshly as his father’s did. 

“Where to?” Eret asked as they slipped past the pillars, past the crowd of adoring citizens. “This is your castle after all.”

“Looking for a tour?” Fundy smiled, quirking his head to the side as he let Eret take one of his hands.

“More or less,” Eret laughed as Fundy guided him out of the room and into the large halls of L’Manberg. Fundy wandered as Eret smiled, staring at the Prince’s back. Though his hands were covered by his gloves, Eret longed to touch Fundy’s paws. The strange sight of the Prince surprised Eret, he had not expected the rumors of the prince’s condition to be true. Yes, he had seen many people cursed into creatures, but a fox? One that was cursed from the moment he was born? That was something Eret had never heard of. He was drawn in, interested in the curious case that was Fundy Soot. 

As the King of the Smp, the lands just beside L’Manberg, Eret had heard many things from travelers and court meetings. But what surprised him the most was after one day, a meeting in which the kings of the realms come forth all together in peace, was when Philza, The king of L’Manberg, had approached him. 

“King Eret,” Philza shook his hand.

“King Philza,” Eret bowed slightly, politely addressing the neighboring king, “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Philza smiled, he was a kind and just king, everyone knew that, “Could I speak to you?”

A couple of kings took glances towards them, wary of their conversation.

“In private?”

“I don’t see why not,” Eret dipped his head and motioned for Philza to take the lead. He paid no attention to the glares that were directed towards him as he joined Philza outside of the large meeting room and out into the hallway. “Yes?”

“You have heard of our… situation, correct?” Philza had his back turned to face Eret. 

“The kidnapping?” Eret asked, his gaze narrowing.

“He is not safe,” Philza frowned, Eret could hear it in his voice.

“I'm sure he isn’t,” Eret looked up, up towards the shutters of the ceiling. 

“Now you know the reason why I'm asking you this,” Philza turned his head, his crown situated on his head. He wore a yellow coat, the L’Manberg coat of arms sewed onto the back. It was a flag upon a shield in which a giant bird surrounded the center of the emblem. From the claws hung a mole, an animal that Eret would never want to represent his own country. A mole. Eret stared back into the blue eyes of the older king, staring at the tired bags and frown that the king wore. “Would you do this for me?”

Eret only stood straighter as he watched the king turn his entire body to face him.

“Would you take care of him?”

Eret had felt the air rush from his lungs as the words fell from Philza’s mouth. With a quick, stabilizing breath, Eret responded: “Prince Fundy?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“You know how,” Philza’s shoulders stiffened, as if he didn’t like his own decision. 

“There has to be more than “taking care of Fundy” in this, isn’t there?” Eret asked, still slightly surprised by the proposition. 

“They will not find him there,” Philza spoke as if he did not hear Eret speak. And Eret only frowned deeper as the older king turned away from him. “Will you do this for me?”

“Philza-”

“Will you?” Philza repeated.

“Yes,” Eret lowered his gaze, “Let’s go speak to the council.”

“Yes.” 

Eret let Philza go first, watching the king take staggered steps towards the opening door of the meeting room. Eret could not say a word as he sat down after Philza, knowing that this will only end in blood. He knew his people well, and that is what they would want.

He directed his focus towards the Prince, trying to not give into the sorrowful feeling in his chest. He did not imagine that he would feel this worry, to feel pity for the kingdom that has lost so much. Eret knew it had to be done, but still he did not think that the Prince’s smile would do such things to him. Eret slowed as he untangled their fingers, letting Fundy walk out into the palace gardens. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Fundy asked as he sat down, sitting on the marble benches.

Eret looked around, staring at the yellow tulips that grew in what seemed to be fields. It was breathtaking.

“Yes,” Eret responded, taking a seat next to the fox prince.

“I always loved coming down here as a kid,” Fundy reached out to touch the petals of the tulip, “Wil used to love it too. We share that much in common.”

“Used to?” Eret inquired, lurring Fundy on.

“We don’t spend much time together anymore,” Fundy’s mood did not seem to dampen as he stared out into the field that was the walled in garden, “But we used to spend hours playing hide and seek here. I always won.”

Eret smiled, letting the sinking feeling inside his gut wash away as he watched the prince reminisce.

“When I think back now, I don’t think I was very good at it. He must’ve let me win,” Fundy laughed softly. Eret carefully watched the Prince think.

“Do you miss it?” He asked.

Fundy turned to look at the King, “Sometimes, but not always.”

“Why?”

“There is no time to miss the past. It is nothing compared to the future ahead of you,” Fundy met Eret’s eyes, neither of them looked away, “The past has happened and you can’t change that… But you can change the future, that is what you can control.”

Eret almost laughed, the sentence was almost childish. Everything is out of your control. Fundy was being optimistic, ready for change. But no one can be ready for change, for what is life and her terrible plans. 

“When the time comes, you will wish to change the past,” Fundy continued, not hearing Eret’s slight scoff, “But if you knew the future, you wish to change it.”

Eret watched Fundy reach for a stem, reaching for one of the yellow tulips and pulling it from the ground. Fundy frowned, scowl deepening as the roots of the flower hung above his knees. Eret could only stare, unable to speak as he became breathless. 

“Why shouldn’t you be able to change it?” The flower seemed to wilt in Fundy’s hand. His claws pierced the green stem, dirt and roots started to fall onto his legs as the world just became the two of them and the dying tulip. “Why shouldn’t I be able to go back and change it all?”

“It's all in the moment,” Eret whispered, and the spell broke. Fundy’s head whipped around to stare wide eyed at the king who just stared back, “It's the choices you make that make a difference.”

Fundy looked back down at the tulip in his paws.

“You change the future with the choices you make,” Eret hummed as he leaned over to take the Prince’s paws into his own, rubbing his thumb against the fur. “When the time comes, you will know.”

Eret watched as Fundy looked back up, eyes wide as the two of them stared at each other. The pain in Eret’s gut had come back, his heart hurt and he nearly choked up as the fox prince smiled lightly. 

“That's how things are,” Fundy chuckled, though it was not happy but it was full of sorrow.

Eret felt himself lean in, the trance that the two had grown so used to grew and danced as the dying tulip fell from Fundy’s grasp. Fundy did not move, only relaxed as the only thing he could see was the King in front of him. There was no time for the flowers, no time for the moon, and no time for the stars as the world caved into only them two once again. It was a feeling in their chests that neither had felt before, Fundy was convinced that it meant something. There was no time as a crash was all they could hear. Fundy whipped his head around, looking from the sound as it was repeated. 

“I’m sorry,” Eret said and Fundy looked back at the king. The king who had taken off his glasses, he looked almost remorseful. His eyes, his brilliant white eyes seemed to turn Fundy into stone as he went cold. His ears bent back and tail fur stood on end as King Eret apologized. Fundy, who broke free from the spell that he wanted to love but was scared to do so, stood. Panic setting in his veins as he turned and ran. As he turned through the halls, screams erupted from the distance. Fear filled Fundy and he was tempted to run away from the cries but pushed forwards. His feet hurt, lungs hurt, and his heart felt like it was falling out from his throat. He did not turn to look back at the king who had lured him into a state of vulnerability, who had convinced him he was safe, and had said things that Fundy could only numbly nod at. He did not turn back to watch the king stand and say:

“This is how things are.”

Fundy picked up speed, taking off as the large doors of the ballroom came into sight. He saw it slam open, guests screaming as they flooded out. He pushed past them, scanning the crowd for his family. Fundy felt like crying, overwhelmed by betrayal and fear for his own and his family's life. He stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of the burning fire inside the hall, it licked at women’s dresses and skirts, kissing the heels of men’s boots as it chased them out into the cold air of the open, wide palace hallways. Maybe the people were calling to him as the fire grew warm across his face, they called for him but it went deaf to his ears as he stared at the beast. Guards scrambled around him, enemy soldiers drew their swords as the familiar clicking of boots came closer. No one turned to grab him, no one turned to cry for the prince as a hand met his wrist. And finally, Fundy did look back.

King Eret wore a frown, remorsefully. The world that they shared had turned into a raging fire pit, into a pit of sorrow and fear. Fundy felt the hair on his arms prickle as Eret spoke:

“I am only fulfilling a promise.”

A promise Fundy did not wish to understand, a promise that had brought his demise. Maybe he was going to die, maybe the gods had finally given up on him as the ballroom of L’Manberg continued to burn. 

“A promise-”

Fundy hiccups as he tried to tear himself away from the despret king.

“-To take care of you.”

He thrashed, shaking his head as tears broke free and his sight turned blurry. He didn’t want to know, he didn’t want to hear the words that had been choked out from the king of the SMP. His ears pressed against his hair, trying to block out the talking of the king as he tried to break free. The promise of the king stayed in his mind as he was dragged away from the fire. The fire that had torn everything apart. Soon, the entire world would hear about the fall, about the dead prince. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say other than: TAKE THAT. HAHAH SUFFER


	4. Chapter 4

_ It was cold. Why was it so cold? Fundy shivered as his fur stood on end, trying to keep warm as the wind blew through his bones. He may have been dazed, bitten and bruised by the snow that latched onto the growing whiskers on the side of his face. His fingers purple, cheeks red, and eyes stinging as he trudged deeper into the snow that was all he could see. It was like a fire was being put out as his legs wobbled, almost unable to keep himself upright as his body started to give out. It was so cold. Fundy couldn’t think, his head empty as the wet cold drenched him. The snow crunched under his feet, a trail left behind him as he tail dragged in the snow.  _

_ His eyes drooped, slipping closed as exhaustion hit in a heat filled thrust. His skin burned, unable to take the cold heat that wrapped around him. It was so hot. Fundy felt as if the blanket he once wore turned cold to hot as he trudged on. He started to claw at his clothes, desperately trying to rid himself of the burning hot sensation of the snow and wind. His coat now thrown into the wind, thrown out into the snow so he no longer burned under the mirage of a bright sun. Maybe he was crying now, maybe the point that his father could not be there for him, set Fundy into a roller coaster of cries. Collapsing, his fears overtook him as the wind blew into his ears. Fundy was so alone, stuck in an unrecognizable place, stuck in a losing sense of hope.  _

_ He could not move, not able to compel himself to scramble away from the hot snow beneath him. He felt so utterly alone, abandoned. This situation, this hopeless force that consumed him, was all too familiar. All too familiar to the nights spent in a cabin away from home, desperately trying to escape the grasp of responsibility and the breath that breathed down his back, desperately trying to hide from the eyes of expectation and words of resentment. He wanted to hide in the hands of an old friend, hide away with a smile on his face as he didn’t need to think about the heavy hearted words of his father, grandfather, and the court.  _

_ With a shaky breath, Fundy finally opened his eyes to a room, a room of a cabin he had willed to be at once again. A woman whose hair matched the terrible snow, smiled down at him. Her hair curled around her face, fluffy and soft as she stood up.  _

_ “Sleep well?” She asked, her voice like honey. _

_ “Yes,” Fundy responded, head in a blurr, “Thank you.” _

_ “No need to thank me, sweetheart,” She laughed softly, “You better thank Niki and Ranboo, little one.” _

_ “Niki,” Fundy whispered, saying the names aloud, “Ranboo..” _

_ “Yes, they found you in the snow, alone,” The woman sighed, “You nearly froze to death.” _

_ “Why was it so hot?” Fundy asked, staring into the blue somber eyes of the woman. _

_ “That happens. The cold seems to burn you after too long,” She frowned, reaching a hand out to place upon Fundy’s forehead. “They will want to see you. May I let them in?” _

_ “Niki, Ranboo?” Fundy’s words hushed as he frowned. _

_ “Yes,” The woman nodded. _

_ “Who are you?” He asked sternly, scowling up at the soft faced woman. _

_ “I am their caregiver,” The woman stiffened, surprised by the tone of his voice. “Nothing more, nothing less.” _

_ “No no, your name,” He asked again, sitting up. _

_ “Stay lying down, you’ll hurt yourself,” She quickly dodged the question instead to focus on Fundy. He moved back down. “I’ll tell them to be careful. _

_ And Fundy let her go, go to open the door and call out for the ones who had actually pulled him from the snow. He wallowed, wallowed in the feeling of the cool sheets and the air that came from the open window. He wasn’t blistering hot, nor was he unbearably freezing. He was now comfortable with the company of people. Fundy watched silently as the wooden door opened, a pair of eyes popping from around the corner to snatch a glance at him. He frowned, watching a young girl around his age open the door further, smiling at him. Fundy watched as her golden hair fell around her face as she excitedly stepped into the room that he resided in. With her hurried steps, another followed her. He was tall, skin stained black and white, like paint, and eyes that nearly glowed. The blonde girl and tall boy didn’t say a word as they stared at Fundy, watching him breathe. _

_ “He’s alive,” The boy let out a held breath, shoulders relaxing. Fundy assumed he was Ranboo. _

_ “Of course he is!” Niki, the blonde girl with a sweet look in her eyes, cheered, “Puffy can help everyone!” _

_ Puffy. Fundy pressed back into the mattress of the bed, thinking about the woman with the white hair. Her skin pale, as if the sun had never existed in her world.  _

_ “Good morning,” Ranboo smiled as he looked down at Fundy, “I’m Ranboo. Me and Niki found you out in the woods last night before dinner. I’m glad you’re awake!” _

_ “I-” Fundy stuttered, taking in the careful words of the boy, “Thank you. I’ll forever be grateful.” _

_ Niki hummed as she sat on the bed, next to Fundy’s legs, “Of course.” _

_ It was quiet, the three of them sat there in the cabin bedroom, only being able to hear each other’s breathing and the sound of the crackling fire behind them. Fundy felt… safe. No longer cold, no longer burning, no longer helpless. Now he was safe, saved by two kids and a woman who felt all too familiar. He closed his eyes, letting Ranboo and Niki whisper to each other and stare. He now was no longer stuck under the harsh gazes of his superiors, no longer stuck in the grasp of responsibility and luxury. He was now just a boy found in the snowy oak biome of L’manberg... _

* * *

With a strangled gasp, Fundy coughed. His head thundered with aching pain, muscles straining as the oaks around him seemed to crowd around his failing body. His wrists burned, rubbed raw from the rope that was tightly wrapped around them. He did not know how far he had run, unable to look up and see the sky due to the shady leaves of the famous L’manberg oaks. How he damned them, damned them for their insufferable size and their ability to hide away the sky. Fundy leaned against one of the trunks, panting as his tail flopped onto the ground behind himself. 

Staring at the ground, the bright sight of yellow dandelion pulled Fundy out of his dazed exhaustion. With an anger filled hatred, with his free feet, he stomped upon the colored flowers he had just recently shared with a man who he had wanted ever so much to trust and to care about. The screams and fire still felt like it had just been moments before, the tender touches and words of a king, the bright garden of the palace, the dance, had felt as if they had just happened. Though from the heaviness that filled his body and limbs, he had come to realize that this misfortune had happened hours earlier. 

Fundy sobbed. He sobbed and fell to his knees as he finally let reality sink deep into his skin, as he let the burdening sorrow out and into the air as he screamed. The grass was wet, staining the white fabric of his pants. He had long ago lost the emblem painted cape and gold that made him royalty. He did not know if anyone was still alive, after the fire that had rampaged through his home, he could not tell. Fundy hiccupped as the wind blew through his ears. He remembered the day he had stumbled away from his uncle and into the snow to wake up in a cabin, it was just like now. But now, Fundy’s hands and finger were covered in the horrific fur of his curse, now Fundy was not in the snow with a home to return to. He had grown up, no longer able to run back to his room and hide beneath his sheets, his fur grown to cover his body in a horrible ache of shame. 

Mud climbed it’s way up to the fur that was embedded into the skin between his cracked padded fingers, sticking to his tail and clothing. His tears burned, eyes stinging and ears ringing as the world crashed down on him. He could no longer run, no longer able to pull himself up and away from the fire that had been lit at the place he once knew as home. Fundy sobbed pitifully on the floor of the muddy forest, away from the bubbling life of people, the burning life of fire and hope. Now, he sat alone in the dark, scared and cold. 

A neigh, a horse in the distance, pushed Fundy out of his pitiful trance. With the quick whip of his head, he could see a white horse run towards him. It was laced with a saddle and reins, the white horse was tamed and came running towards the fox prince. Soon, calls of men followed after the horse. Panicked, Fundy stumbled to his feet, trying to tear away the rope that had been wrapped around his wrists. But, in a short time, the horse yielded to a stop in front of him, snorting and sniffing at him. He scoffed, in disgust, as the white stallion prodded at him.

“We have to find that horse!” A man, with an accent way too similar to Fundy’s fathers, called.

Fundy sucked in air as he gasped, seeing blue peek out from behind the oaks.

“Sapnap! There!” The same man called, running towards Fundy and the white horse. Fundy stiffened, eyes widening as he stepped back. Slipping, Fundy fell into the mud, scrambling away from the man whose blue shirt stuck out from the dark green of the forest.

“Oh,” He had said, looking down at Fundy. He must’ve looked disgusting because the man scrunched his nose at the mud covered fox. “Oh my god.”

“George!” Another called, Sapnap, “Don’t go running off!”

“At least I found Spirit!” George, a man with brown hair and pale skin, snorted at Sapnap, a taller man with almost black hair.

“Well thank god for that- Holy shit,” They had made eye contact, Fundy frowned as Sapnap stared agape at him. “Um. hello.”

“Hi,” Fundy gasped out, throat raw from crying.

“Oh my god!” George scanned over Fundy’s body, “You’re tied up!”

Fundy let out an anxious breath, his nerves and fur standing on end as he waited for the fated words of ‘You’re a hybrid’ to slip from the men that stood before him.

“Looks like they really tied you tight,” George pulled out a pocket knife to gnaw away at the thick rope.

“Y-yeah,” Fundy’s mouth straightened, trying not to sob out a cry as the man ripped off the rope, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” George nodded, helping Fundy up.

_ Why am I always getting saved?  _ Fundy sighed as he watched Sapnap look between him and the white horse. “I better get going- thank you for your help.”

“Wait-” Sapnap reached out, taking Fundy’s shaking shoulder, “We’re literally in the middle of nowhere, where do you even live?”

Fundy did not answer, he could not answer.

“See,” Sapnap rolled his eyes, letting go of Fundy, looking into his eyes, “You’re probably tired, cold, half dead maybe. You can stay with me and George for the time being.”

“WHAT?” George whispered yelled at Sapnap, pulling him away from Fundy as they silently yelled at each other.

In the midst of their argument, Fundy looked back to the stallion who had led the men to him. With a careful hand, Fundy reached up to stroke the snout of the horse, watching it nuzzle back into his furry hands.

“He’s a hybrid!” Fundy caught the words coming from George, “We can’t just take him in! We’re heading into SMP territory!”

“It will be fine,” Sapnap snorted, glaring down at George.

“He sticks out like a sore thumb!” George pulled at his hair, clearly upset with Sapnap’s sudden decision. “We’re basically asking for someone to kill us, Sapnap!”

“George,” Sapnap sighed, sneaking a glance towards Fundy, “He’s half dead.”

“We don’t even know who he is-”

“Let's ask then,” Sapnap slapped George on the back as he dragged him over to Fundy who still sat in the mud with the stallion sniffing him.

Fear erupted in Fundy’s throat as he watched George glare at him, goggles pushed up past his forehead. His claws sunk into the fur between the opposite fingers, nervously tugging at the dreaded russet fur. He nearly took a step away from Sapnap who looked down, taking in his shorter and shaking form. He was cold, drenched to the core, and was covered in thick mud that latched onto his silk clothing. 

“I’m Sapnap,” The man nodded a hello, properly introducing himself. Fundy finally caught a good look at him, he wore a leather laced, white, cotton shirt and brown cotton pants. A strip of fabric curled around his forehead into a knot at the back, black hair falling in front of the bandana. Fundy nodded back. “And this guy is George.”

George. He had much lighter hair than Sapnap, golden brown, and wore a similar styled shirt as Sapnap but just a stained, pale, blue. A scabbard was hung across his back, holding a bright sword and across his waist with a dagger. As Fundy mumbled a quiet greeting, George’s blue and brown eyes (each a different color) glanced over the ears and tail that was embedded into his body.

“Nice to meet you…?” George trailed off, searching for Fundy’s name. 

“Um,” Fundy knew he could not answer, his name known throughout the kingdoms and surely he’d be on all the headlines of the papers from the oh so recent destruction of the L’manberg castle. “I- I thought maybe you could tell me.”

“What?” George raised an eyebrow, mouth twisted in open confusion, “You don’t remember your name or something?”

Fundy frowned deeply as George’s eyes bored into his soul, shocked as how they softened suddenly. 

“You don’t even know who you are,” George said, watching Fundy fiddle with his own fur. 

“Should I?” Fundy whispered as he stared at the ground, staring at the grass that peeked out and away from the mud underneath his feet.

“No,” Sapnap shook his head, “You’re a hybrid, it’s better to not know anything about yourself.”

“Lucky fella aren't you?” George sighed as he took the reigns of the white stallion. Fundy shifted under the doll-like gaze of the horse. 

“Yes,” Fundy muttered, tearing his gaze away from the horse to look at the men who looked pitifully at him. He had to play this game, play as if he could not remember he was the prince who used to be dressed in dramatic amber silks, decorated with golden rings, and bathed in honey rays of light. Now he had to shy away from the limelight and into the shadows of the sorrowful stories of his childhood, into the snow cold reality away from the warm walls of home. 

With a short look behind, Sapnap motioned for Fundy to follow close behind. And so he did, Fundy took a shaky step forwards and followed the men into the tall, oak trees, and into the wide world of nothingness. Fundy wanted nothing more than to be in the cabin in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the two month break lmao  
> I had a lot goin on and i finally was able to finish this chapter after like three versions of it. Can't wait to explore more of Fundy's motives, plot holes, and answer some questions in later chapters!


End file.
